


Frustration

by fio



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dry Sex, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fio/pseuds/fio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What they once had, they don't anymore. Keith still wants it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> [this kicked my ass](http://siriusdraws.tumblr.com/post/147538854120/i-see-you-have-fallen-into-voltron-hell) so i wrote this, thanks now i need to dive into a pool of ice water

They don't talk about it.

The familiarity, the comfort, the trust is still there, as if Shiro never disappeared and Keith never started to believe he really was dead, but there's an unfamiliar wall between them now, built out of guilt and doubt and loss. The training goes fine, the missions go _fine_ , nobody even notices, even with a device on their heads that merges their thoughts together. The paladins all had a chance to dive through their minds and swam right past their history. It makes things easier, to pretend their closeness is something other than what it is.

But the quick glances and light touches—never lingering _too_ long to be intimate but not brief enough to be meaningless—start to sting sharper and sharper. The silence, the cowardice from them both to never say anything, is starting to drive Keith up the walls. He takes it out on the Galra when he can. Then that's not enough and he takes it out on whatever poor bastard gets paired with him in training. Then _that's_ not enough and he starts to take it out on everyone.

"What is your freaking _damage_ , dude?!" Lance shouts, Hunk holding his arm to help him get up off the ground.

Coran and Allura are talking over each other and Keith doesn't know which of them they're trying to talk to or what they're saying. He doesn't care. The only scolding he listens to has always come from Shiro.

Pidge is watching him, too sharply—she suspects something now. Whatever Lance had said that set Keith off that he's already forgotten is one piece of a puzzle she's going to start putting together. He can't find it in himself to regret making a scene as long as someone realizes _why_.

Hunk just looks alarmed and confused, trying to calm Lance down as he tugs him backwards even as Lance wiggles around in an attempt to get back at Keith.

Shiro isn't even there. That just pisses him off more.

He runs out the door, half the room shouting his name after him. He's still angry—so goddamn frustrated—he only knows one place to go to try and get rid of some of it.

The training room is dark and empty and he doesn't bother grabbing a specific weapon. Whatever's closest—an axe, heavy and solid in his hands—will do. He calls the order and the training program starts, a single bot rising out of the floor. It's barely activated before Keith takes its head off with a single swing. His chest heaves with it, grief and anger and shame making the air burn in his lungs even though he's nowhere near exhausted.

Another bot rises and Keith gives it a second or two, needing the time to readjust his grip on the axe before charging, using his whole body's momentum to bring the blade down into the bot's shoulder. The bot swipes at him, not slowed by the damage, and Keith dodges before using the handle to toss it down onto the floor, dislodging the bit with the motion. With the axe freed, he pulls it over his head and slams it down again, right into the face of the machine. It feels good, his muscles burning with heat and adrenaline, so he does it again. He distracts himself with it long enough that he doesn't notice the next bot until it shoulder checks him across the mat. His back hits the floor and he grunts but quickly rolls onto his knees, the pain not registering beyond a bit of numbness. He kicks off the floor and dashes for the nearest weapon—a whip—before pivoting around to charge right back at his opponent.

The machine swings at him, the move obvious and aggressive, and Keith easily slides under it. He uses the butt of the whip to jab hard against the bot's leg, unbalancing it, and wraps the length of the whip around its arm and pulls, letting the momentum of the fall rip the arm off. The bot can keep going without a limb though and kicks at Keith, barely missing him but making him tumble backwards. He discards the arm and runs to grab another weapon—his eyes on a bo staff—when a voice that sends a sharp jolt through him calls out, shutting down the program.

"So this is where you were."

Shiro's presence dunks his nerves into ice, the heat and adrenaline fading fast. Keith is suddenly hyper aware of how hard he's breathing, how sweaty he is and how badly his back hurts as he slows to a stop, turning to look at Shiro from beneath his bangs.

"They tell you?"

"Oh, I heard about it," Shiro says. Keith can tell by the way he says it that he got an earful from everyone.

"And?"

Shiro doesn't respond. He keeps walking forward until he's grabbing Keith by the elbow and tugging him back towards the center of the room.

"Let go—"

"Fight me."

"What?"

"Fight me."

"Shiro, what— "

Shiro lets go and Keith stumbles into his arm, cold and metallic. He takes a step back and stares at Shiro until his breathing slows, though his mouth still tastes of iron and his chest still burns.

"No weapons," Shiro clarifies. "Try to subdue me. Three chances, you fail all of them and you apologize to Lance and get your ass chewed out by Allura and Coran."

Keith scoffs, running a hand through his hair and swiping at the sweat on his face.

"And if I don't fail?"

"I'll tell everyone to back off."

"And they'll listen to you."

Shiro shrugs. "People generally do when it comes to you."

Keith's gut squeezes and the anger is back. He pulls his jacket off and tosses it across the floor. Shiro takes off his vest but leaves his undershirt on. For a moment, Keith thinks about the scars beneath it. Scars Shiro has told him about but never let him see.

"Whenever you're ready," Shiro says and Keith hesitates only a moment before he's charging.

It's much different fighting a live person than it is a bot and his movement is so obvious Shiro is already reacting, but Keith drops to the floor and rolls his full momentum into Shiro's shins, knocking him over. Keith climbs onto Shiro's legs, ready to try and pin him, but Shiro jerks an elbow back that Keith has to flail backwards to avoid getting hit by, giving Shiro enough space to roll onto his back. He grabs for Keith's arm and gets him by the bicep, pulling sharply and tossing him onto his ass against the mat before climbing over his lap and sitting on him, pinning his arms down by the wrist above his head. Keith struggles for a few seconds before the wind is pushed out of him.

"Give," he croaks and Shiro lifts off of him.

"That's one," Shiro says. Keith grunts and doesn't get off his back until Shiro offers a hand. He slaps it away and gets up by himself. "The roll wasn't bad. Caught me off guard. But you can easily hurt yourself that way, you have to be careful."

His shoulder does hurt now, as does his back, even if the adrenaline is pumping through him again to drown it out, but he doesn't admit it. Shiro can probably tell anyway by the way he stands but it doesn't matter. Shiro won't stop this match.

"Try again."

Keith is slower to move this time. They circle each other, walking in a slow ring until Keith fakes a charge to the left. Shiro shifts to catch him but Keith spins around his back and gets his arms under Shiro's armpits, going for the sleeper hold. But Shiro is bigger and bends forward, lifting Keith's feet off the ground and making it easy to reach up behind his shoulders, grab Keith by the shirt and tug him down over his head. Keith rolls into the fall this time, easing the pain of the landing and moving out of Shiro's reach for an easy pin. He gets to his feet and charges, not bothering to fake this time, and leaps to give him the height to get his arm around Shiro's neck as he slams into him and brings them tumbling backwards. Keith hears Shiro choke from the force of it and freezes instead of shifting for the pin, which Shiro takes advantage of to flip him again, landing him on his chest to sit on his back.

" _Give_ ," Keith shouts.

Shiro's barely let go of him before Keith moves, tripping him and climbing onto his back once his chest hits the floor. Shiro knocks him off and tries to get up but Keith tugs him back down onto his knees. Keith gets pushed onto his back in return but knees into Shiro's side before he can be pinned.

They keep going, their moves poor and uncoordinated, more likely to hurt each other and themselves, but it's not really a proper training match anymore. It never was. They don't get back up onto their feet, stuck rolling and grunting against the floor, hands grabbing frantically at each other for better grip. Keith can barely breathe and he's hard in his pants but he doesn't stop, the momentum shifting him on top of Shiro for a moment before he's thrown onto his back again. The sting is enough now to make him wince and Shiro freezes with Keith's legs wrapped around his waist, one of Keith's hand digging into his shoulder and the other pinned against his own chest, both of them gasping and Shiro's sweat dripping down onto Keith's already sweat-damp shirt.

"Say it," Shiro pants, though he doesn't really have Keith pinned at all. Keith stares up at him as he tries to drag in enough air to form words. Shiro closes his eyes and shakes his head, dropping more sweat on Keith's chest. "Just say it."

"Why—" Keith starts, but his voice is weak in his throat and his mouth is so dry he can barely swallow.

Shiro's eyes open slowly as he takes in deep breaths and Keith sees in them something he hasn't seen in over a year.

"Why," Keith tries again, licking his lips and trying to find enough saliva to swallow, "did you never say anything?"

The confusion in Shiro's face is enough for the anger to flare again and Keith squeezes his knees against Shiro's sides and swings them both over, leaving him on top again.

"Don't fucking do that!"

"Do what— Keith, I— "

"Pretend like you don't know!" The frustration—at Shiro, at himself, at how fucking unlucky they both just happen to be—and the slow seeping loss of his adrenaline makes his whole body start to shake, making it easy for Shiro to unbalance him and roll them over again, but Shiro stays still, unmoving and breathless. "I lost you! I lost everything when I lost you, and even though you came back, you're still gone!"

"I'm here," Shiro is whispering, staring wide-eyed as Keith falls apart, "I'm here, I'm here." 

"Then why can't I touch you?!" Keith shouts, gasping huge breaths, "Why don't— "

"Keith—" 

"Why don't you want me anymore?"

The shift is so sudden Keith feels like the universe has just tilted itself upside down as Shiro rolls them over, and then the universe does another giant flip as Shiro cups his face and kisses him hard. Keith's legs no longer have the strength to hold themselves up around Shiro's waist but Shiro just presses his hips down against Keith's with the loosening of his grip, their trapped erections suddenly sliding against each other and shooting hot spikes of pleasure up and down Keith's spine.

Their hands move around as if they're trying to grapple each other again, frantic and almost painful in how tight they squeeze. Keith barely has any energy left but his want for Shiro—finally, _finally_ acknowledged, after ages pretending it wasn't still there—but it's more than enough to keep his hips moving, rutting up against Shiro's cock as he rubs down, just as desperate. The training room is full of the sound of their wet kisses and slacks shifting against each other until Keith has to pull away for air and groans with every hard rock of Shiro's hips down onto his while Shiro kisses and pants against his neck.

Keith shouts as he comes, fingers digging into Shiro's sides and still tugging him downwards, needing more pressure. His cock is almost starting to hurt from the friction despite the pleasurable rush of orgasm, but he doesn't care. He'll take any kind of feeling, painful or pleasant, if it just means Shiro keeps touching him. Shiro's thrusts start to stutter, his hands falling onto the mat to give him better grounding, and he rubs even harder down into Keith's hip as he starts to come and Keith's whole belly churns with the sound of Shiro's low groan of his name. 

"Keith... _Keith_ —" 

"Please, Shiro, come for me, please," Keith begs, and Shiro finds his mouth again to crush their lips together before he moans and rocks down against Keith's slowly dampening slacks until he stops moving entirely and collapses on top of him. 

Keith could pass out right now, but his heart is thundering too hard to let him fall asleep just yet. Shiro is breathing heavily atop him and Keith's whole body starts to feel even heavier and sore as his orgasm fades. But just like he always did, Shiro senses it before Keith can say anything and slowly pushes up on his arms, lifting his weight away. They're both sweaty and red-faced and the cooling come in his slacks is becoming a lot less pleasant by the minute, but Keith is almost afraid to let Shiro pull away. They stare at each other until their breathing is calm. They're both waiting on what Shiro has to say. 

"I didn't stop wanting you."

Keith inhales sharply as his body rushes with relief. Not that he really needed the words after what they just did, but it still makes him feel better to hear it wasn't just him. 

"But I didn't... I didn't want to say anything. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to," Shiro says, watching Keith's face. 

"Why?" 

"A search party wasn't going to find me, even if they sent one. It was safe to assume everyone thought I was dead. I didn't want to start up something you'd already buried if you were okay to leave it buried." 

Keith unclenches one of his hands from Shiro's side and brings shaky fingers up to Shiro's face. His skin is warm. 

"You're not dead," Keith says, smiling. 

Shiro doesn't smile back. 

"Not all of me came back from that Galra ship." 

Keith's eyes dart to the artificial arm holding Shiro up and back to his face. 

His smile is gone too when he says, deadly serious, "I won't let them have any more of you." 

That surprises Shiro, and after a moment his face softens into a quiet laugh. Shiro kisses Keith's cheek and then his lips and finally pulls off of him, offering his hand once he's on his feet. This time Keith takes it. The shift into standing just makes the mess in his pants all the more uncomfortable, and Shiro's expression tells Keith he feels the same way. 

"Shower?" Keith proposes and Shiro nods. 

"And after you can apologize to Lance." 

"Uh, no way. I didn't lose." 

"Fine, fine, you didn't give, but I didn't either. One more round after the shower?" 

Keith raises his eyebrows and Shiro's face reddens. 

"I meant. Uh. Not, um, not _that_ kind. For. Er." 

Keith laughs. The wall is gone, crumbled to dust between their feet by a few rounds of exhaustive sparring that snowballed into something more, and he's regained what he'd thought was lost for good. Shiro elbows him playfully for laughing and leads them towards the showers, looking bashful, and Keith follows easily. 


End file.
